Friday Nights
by Missthirdward
Summary: TGW is ending and I'm tired of seeing Alicia constantly suffer through Will's death, also because I'm madly in love with Jason and I think our girl deserves some happiness. One shot with lemons lemons lemons! - (m rating for some parts) enjoy and please review thoughts :)


Alicia Florrick shook herself from the trance that was provoked from lack of sleep, added to the absence of alcohol, and the stack of paperwork on her desk. Why had she even agreed to return?

The stain of cash in her business – or lack of – stroke a cord, and gave her enough reason to being here. Lockhart Agos and Lee wasn't exactly her home, not anymore, but there were memories that remained, friendships made, relationships torn, and a sense of nostalgia inclined towards her best interest. Weakness wasn't just her strength, it was her first aid kit in survival.

One day, hopefully in the near future, she would thank Diane for forcing her to look down, and Cary of course, whose youthful pride would soon get ripped apart by the likes of Lucca whose intelligence and loyalty was Alicia's greatest alliance, her equal in addition to their fitting investigator.

And with only a quarter of her hour tossed, Jason Crouse entered her mind once again, her third alliance, and probably her most desirable one. She was awfully ashamed to admit that his face was a regular occurrence in her dreams, at night, mentally he was there, and at day, when the torch had risen and she was given enough time to think, Jason was alive with fire, enough fire to put out the ice in her heart.

She covered her face, and smiled girlishly as she remembered the taste of his lips under her nose. His scent, leather, the height of masculinity, added with a hint of dangerous cologne and a fresh sense of oil.

Bad-boys.

She had an alarming interest in them. Maybe her mother was correct in her ill opinion. Mark Middleton, seventh form, he rode a motorcycle, wore leather pants and kissed her as if she was the only girl on the planet. And there was David Brooking, her first, and despite the five year age difference, his coloured tattoos that crayoned every piece of his body was most likely the main lead to her father's restraining order from their property.

Peter's career was tarnished, and there was a large chance that it would be ruined again, he was far from good, but he was still the father to her children, despite the easy route of shame he took his family under, he gave her the two greatest gifts of all.

And Will. Will. Her heart shuddered for the image of his perfect face. Regardless of her obvious commitment to his memory, he wasn't perfect, and was once just as corrupt as the rest of them. He wasn't as bad as she would ever dare to admit, but he was hers. She could almost hear his laughter drilling the back of her head, with that boyish kind smile she adored. _"He's so not your type."_

Jason wasn't, and that's what she liked most about him.

"You look entertained." She jumped at the sound of his voice, and allowed herself the pleasure of taking him in, with a palm pressed against her heart, not born from her jolt, but for other reasons entirely.

"You scared me" he stood behind the square that outline her office, with two mugs in his hands.

"I figured you'd still be in. You're the only person in this planet that would still be here on a Friday night. The floor is empty."

She pressed herself further into her broken chair and folded her arms, her foot swinging in excitement. "I'm committed."

"You are indeed" he flashed his best smile, and suddenly, all her worries vanished. He was not real. He couldn't be real.

"You brought me coffee"

"I brought green tea,"

"Green tea?" the look of pure disappointment didn't go unnoticed.

"If you had coffee at this time of the night, sleep would be a century away."

"I didn't think I was sleeping tonight." She grinned mildly, new to this territory. She caught him blush, which was enough motivation for her to travel for her green tea.

He moved to the chair, and she sat against the edge of her desk. The warm liquid of herbal extract's trailed down her throat, she wanted to spit it out for the image of a martini seemed much more satisfying, but she allowed herself to taste a new life, though all she wanted in this moment was to taste him.

"Ok, you owe me coffee and I still owe you mini tacos."

He laughed, deep from his chest, low and exciting. "I don't think that deal is enough. Not for me anyway."

He stood up and trekked slowly, stopping meters away from the wall that separated her from ripping his clothes off.

"Why is that?" she looked up at him through her green eyes, he, a man who had a build for sin, and she, a woman ready to commit a couple more, maybe double that amount for him.

He kissed her. She wasn't expecting it for he seemed to respect her personal space, but somehow the wall that he often stood behind, distorted into thin pieces beneath his expensive shoes. Did he have any idea what his natural qualities did to her? His stubble beard, his intimidating eyes, his manly scent. She allowed him to slip a hand around her waist as his tongue explored her own. She relished in the taste of him, yearning for more, waiting for more.

She pulled his hips into hers, threatening to loosen the zip of his jacket, her fingers trailed above his hard chest and she waited for the fervent moment that involve him and her desk.

There was a file in the back of her mind that reminded her of how long it had truly been since she had felt this way. Excited, eager, anxious, impatient, giddy. She agreed that it had been a long time.

His lips tasted like licorice and a hint of whiskey when he forced a pause in their dance, both an odd combination.

"Not here." He whispered through husky voice. Her hand stopped from under his shirt.

"But I thought.." she tried to mask her disappointment

"My apartment." His tone was certain and soft, less aggressive than she would have hoped, though she enjoyed the attentive side that came with his charming personality.

"You're corrupting me"

His eyes were clouded when he looked into hers, that devilish smirk catching her breath a few seconds short. "Am I?" his lips touched her cheek, her neck. "I hardly noticed."

* * *

"Nice place." She scanned the spacious living room that included dark brown leather seats and a large flat screen tv. The virile apartment was him, completely him, with wooden furniture and a scent of freedom.

Her eyes closed in longing when she felt his hand on her hips and his warm breath inches from her neck. "You like it?"

"I.." she bit her lip, his tongue scraping against soft skin. "I um.. it is.." she swallowed. "nice." She felt him chuckle and it sent heat down her spine and back up to the spikes of her hair which grew instantly at his touch.

"No tour of the house hmm?" she asked, her eye-lids closing in approval as he ravished her neck.

"My place isn't exactly entertaining, definitely not as satisfying as yours."

"It's flattering to know you think so highly of mine."

"I miss your apartment," before she could gather which world or country she was in, she felt herself pinned against the wall. The pulse of her fingers vibrated against his skin as she ran her hands through his hair, leaving trails of want and lust, pushing further when his kisses trailed down her body, amongst the ride of her blouse and in between her breast. He had no hesitation in going after what he wanted, only ceasing a few seconds just to look up at her. "I miss the scent of lavender" he whispered in her ear, "And the free alcohol. The extra entertainment, the endless comfortable silence." She felt his warm thumb scrape the surface of her rib and she expired inside. "Most of all I miss your office, your chair is better there."

She found herself laughing, and then scratching the wall for strength when she felt her skirt ride up and his soft lips trail from her ankles to her thighs. "Is this okay?" he looked up at her with deep eyes, mirrored with reservation and hunger.

 _Is this okay._ She wondered, _is this okay..._

The ends of her lips stretched into a smile. "Yes, this.. this is okay."

Without continuing his abuse, leaving her stuck in her stockings, he stood to her height and looked into her eyes, his own a reflection of something deep that scared her and moved her simultaneously. His fingers established the lock of hair that had fallen from the protection of her ear. "You are beautiful Alicia." There was no sense of uncertainty in his voice, he was so sure of his words. There was a larger side of her that believed him - through the likes of Peter and his philandering ways that made her question otherwise – she was confident enough to know that she was still beautiful.

"Take me. Now" she ordered, forcing his lips against her own. His leather jacket was torn onto the floor by the time he could even grasp the chance to handle it himself. Lips moved, blood pressure rose, oxygen became just another restriction, fingers quivered, hands struggled, faces burned, and legs tangled around his waist when he lifted her for the nearest comfortable surface.

The couch was soft and beautiful when she pressed her back against it, pulling him with her. He felt the insane texture of her hands reach the bottom of his shirt where she dragged through his broad shoulders and threw it over their ocean of clothes. She allowed her eyes to honor his broad naked chest, the sense of reality was better than her dreams, she could touch him now, feel the jolt of his muscles as her nails scraped enchanting flesh. "I want you"

"Yes mam" his dark eyes danced in humour, to others, he was intimidating, scary. To her, he was soft and stimulating, a sublime creature who had the blessing of being foolishly sexy.

She felt her chest rise to the roof and then down again when his tongue followed path, his teeth scraped her rib lightly, one hand massaging her nipple. "I want to watch you fall, I want to pleasure you, I want to see you cry out so hard you'll hardly breathe. I want to taste you all night, I want all of you, every piece of you here with me."

"I'm here." Her gaze remained in his, he pressed a soft kiss against her abdomen, she wanted him, needed his torturous assault to lead where she wanted it, for she was positive that her edge was hanging just inches from her feet.

"Your skin is soft." He whispered, pulling her stockings from her long legs, followed by her panties. "It's almost unreal. You're like a goddess."

 _Oh god._ She thought. He was indulging in the pleasure of teasing her, taking his grand time with gradual patience. She dragged her nails through his hair and held him firmly, and she felt him chuckle. Before she could urge him between her legs, a long confident lick slid along wet flesh and into her opening.

Her response was fuzzy, she wasn't sure if she had sucked air or exhaled it, maybe a combination of both. Long moans and low begs may have been voiced, she wouldn't know. Sweat drained down her skin from the pleasure of it all, and the texture of his stubble beard against her most sensitive skin was heaven and torture, mixed with his buoyant moans that would shoot through her core, among weak blood cells, and through her lungs, back down to earth, until he would do it all again, with an extra flick of his tongue and a simple firm grip on her hips. "Stay still baby" she heard him say at one point.

He started to massage her clit, licking, tasting, corrupting, ravishing. Her fingers nurtured his hair, and the other held firmly onto the edge of the sofa.

"I'm close." She said breathlessly, the air in her throat tightening with each thrash of his poised tongue, he had so much self-control in this moment. That is until he pulled away.

She almost cried in disapproval, lacking the tip of her edge that she desperately needed. She watched with hooded eyes as he undid his belt, and she pulled herself up to her knees, catching his lips under hers. "I want to do it." She ordered, her hands taking his and removing the strap from his waist. His eyes roamed her naked body, his hands exploring the segment of her stunning curves and perfect shape.

How was he so weak over her? He had only just met her, and yet he already had an outline of their bodies together, their lives, a perfect fitting.

He felt her push him onto his back, and then her hips were moving over his, she sunk onto his pulsating length slowly, gradually with sensations merging together, connected in every way possible.

 _Just listen to my breathing._

His words from their intense moment all those nights ago replayed in her mind. But now that she covered him in ecstasy, with his breathing narrow and controlled by no one else but her, she was the superior, and she relished in the feeling of possession.

His hands cared for her lovely curves and she pushed herself against his chest, planting a kiss through his lips, allowing their mouths to bond before heat and lack of oxygen could tear them apart.

She rose back up, almost completely out, before she took him inside her once again. "Oh" she moaned, and listened intently to his incoherent response. She surrounded him, his body, scent, the sound of her breathing sighing out, the taste of her lingering on his tongue. She moved over him, slowly, sensually, with deep gentle thrusts, pale shadow forming her outline, gold skin, gentle fantasy, warm woman. Swallowing him before she took him over again.

Her moves became harder and soon she was taken back from fierce wind and a sublime orgasm that eventually left her collapsed above him. His warm chest was there to welcome Alicia to her perfect sense of heaven, added by the soft patterns of his caress. "You're amazing." She heard him say.

She hummed in acknowledgement, the blissful lullaby of reaching her high was still ringing in her left ear, but she managed to find his lips, amongst the dim vision of her senses, and she tasted his hunger through the frame of his hot body. Time ceased yet again when she felt herself move at the speed of a slug. He was so gentle with her she wondered if he were her same Jason.

His fierce thrust felt warm and erotic, and this was Jason, she resumed. This was him with his strong power towering over her, and his deep masculine scent protecting her body.

He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, appreciating the sensation of having her legs locked around him like this, knowing that some feelings were mutual, and some were better kept secret. Her nails scraped, braded, and marked the small of his back, his muscles flexing with each touch she shared on his skin. He drained all his energy into her, grilling his hips through her own and using some of that pent up bliss into their long pure kisses. Her warm opening grew tight around him, and eventually, he spilled into her, his weight supported by one elbow whilst the other catered to her thick hair. He caught her eyes, which excelled in satisfaction and contentment, and a hint of breathlessness.

She laughed when his face collapsed into the curve of her neck, desperately searching for ground. "I wore you out." She said, her fingers grating his hair.

"An understatement." He smiled through his mouth and lifted himself from crushing her completely. He pulled her into his side and seized the throw to cover her tantalizing body from the promise of a cold breeze.

"Of all places, you chose to throw me on the couch?" she said, once they regained breathing.

He looked down at her, exhausted and handsome with his riffled hair and sexy smile. "I figured the wall wasn't a suitable choice, would you rather the floor?"

"Maybe the bedroom?" she teased.

"Next time, I'll show you around, I might feed you as well." He passed a gentle kiss over her forehead, casual, the type she would only share with a friend if she felt inclined.

"Why are you not like this with other people?" she looked up at him through hazel eyes.

"Like what?"

"Open, unguarded, passionate"

"I don't like other people," Jason looked at her, his hand brushing her chin, voice soft. "But I like you."

She smiled in the familiar way he admired. "I like you too."


End file.
